Shredded, стр. 59
“He did it to himself.”
“God.” She lets out a sarcastic little laugh. “You’re pathetic.”
“How about you? You’ve been wearing blinders about Z forever. You don’t want to know the truth because then you’ll have to admit that you can’t fix him.”
“Oh, I’m the first one to admit I can’t fix him. That he’s broken, probably beyond repair. You’re the one who won’t accept that. Who only wants him if he’s whole.”
The words hit like blows. “You don’t understand. I saw what happened today. I know he did it on purpose.”
She shrugs. “Who knows if he did or he didn’t? Nothing is ever that cut-and-dried with Z. Besides, that’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point. You know he’s too good to go down like that—”
“What I know is that he was doing fine, holding his shit together. He was excited as hell about boarding that competition. And then a fucking reporter got in his head right before his run.”
“So he threw everything away?”
“Jesus, Ophelia. Open your eyes. You see everything in black and white, but it’s not that simple. You’ve never snowboarded. You don’t know how easy it is to lose focus for one second and screw everything up.”
My hands are shaking, so I shove them into the front pocket of my hoodie. “You think it was just an accident? You think he just fell?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But he didn’t plan to go down like that. That I am sure of.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little naive? You said yourself how messed up he is.”
“He is messed up and believe me, I know that better than anyone. I sure as hell know better than you. I’ve spent the last ten years watching him self-destruct, and trying—with Luc and Ash—to hold him together. I was there when they found April. I was there when he found his mom. And I’ve been there every day since, picking him up when the world gets too fucking hard for him.
“Except today, when he was counting on you to be there. You to pick him up. And what the hell did that get him? Absolutely nothing. You’re no better than his father.” She dumps the glass on the counter, heads for the door. But she stops a couple of feet from it, turns to face me. “You stay away from him, you hear me? You’ve hurt him enough. So you stay far, far away from him.”
“Or what?” I don’t know why I’m challenging her on this, why I even care when she’s telling me to do exactly what I’ve been planning on—staying as far away from Z as I possibly can.
“Or that black eye you’re sporting will be the least of your problems. Ash and Luc won’t touch you because you’re a girl. But I will fucking rip you to shreds.”
She slams out without another word, and I’m left standing there in the middle of a suite that feels empty and lifeless without Z in it. And wondering if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life, bigger even than getting into that car with Remi.
When I can’t stand it anymore, when my head—and my heart—feel like they’re going to explode from the pressure of not knowing, I go to my backpack. Pull out the tablet Z bought me when he realized I didn’t have one. And start researching.
Everyone else knows what’s up with Z. I’m beginning to think that it’s past damn time that I did, too.
Chapter 27
Z
I must have fallen asleep, because it’s pitch dark in my room when I jolt awake, my heart pounding and a nightmare running through my head.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” A soft hand strokes my hair, cups my cheek, and I figure I must still be dreaming. Except the fingers playing with my hair feel pretty damn real. They’re too cold to be anything else.
I force my eyes open, and there she is, sitting next to the bed. Ophelia. “You came.”
She nods, bites her lip. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
“Yeah,” she tells me. “I do.”
“No.” I reach out to her with my uninjured hand. “You don’t. I understood.”
“Did you? Because, I’ve got to tell you, I barely understand myself.”
“Remi—”
“This isn’t about Remi,” she tells me forcefully. “This is about me and you. He has no business being in here with us.”
“That’s not true,” I tell her, squeezing her hand. “I get it. He’s your past—”
“And you’re my future.”
I freeze, drop my eyes from hers. It feels like I’ve waited my whole life to hear those four words, yet I’ve only known Ophelia a few weeks.
“You don’t believe me,” she says.
“It’s not that.”
“Sure it is. That’s the second thing this is all about. The injuries. The daredevil stuff. You don’t think you have a future, and even if you do, you don’t think you deserve to have anyone of your own in that future.”
“That’s not true.”
“Really?” She holds my eyes with her own, and tonight I’m staring into a color I’ve never seen before. A cool, clear jade that is as resolute as it is beautiful. “Prove it.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, prove it.”
“How am I even supposed to do that?” I gesture to the hospital bed and my injured shoulder even as my heart starts to pound hard against my ribs.
“You know very well how.”
Panic wells up inside me as I finally get what she’s asking. No, what she’s demanding. “You don’t understand—”
“You’re right. I don’t. So make me understand.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that easy.” I can’t tell her. I can’t say the words.
“Will it help if I tell you I already know?”
Fuck. “Do you?”
She nods. “Yes.”
Double fuck. “Cam?”
“No. Your friends would never betray your confidence like that.”
“Then how?”
She sighs, rests her head on the railing on the side of my bed. I take advantage of her position to run my fingers through her curls. Part of me thinks she’s going to move her head away, that she won’t want me to touch her now that she knows just what a fuck-up I am, but she doesn’t. She just sits there and lets me pet her for as long as I want. I can’t believe how good it feels just to touch her even as what little is left of my world falls down around me.
“I came to the hospital this afternoon, got here right after you did.”
“I didn’t know that. They said—”
“Shh.” She rests gentle fingers against my lips. “I didn’t stay. I was … I was pretty messed up. And I’m sorry about that. Sorry you had to go through all that without me.”
“It’s fine. I don’t expect—”
“See, that’s the thing. You don’t even get how awful that is. How terrible it is that you don’t expect anyone to be there for you, ever. That you don’t think you deserve it. And I just reinforced that belief this afternoon. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for being such a selfish bitch.”
“I don’t need your apology, Ophelia. And I don’t need your pity.” Pity is the last thing I want from her.
“Is that what you think this is? Really? Pity?”
“What the hell else would it be?” Suddenly I’m angry. Really angry, and I don’t even know why. “You walked out because of what I did, and now, suddenly, you find out about my past and you’re back. What is that if it isn’t pity?”
“Understanding. Empathy. Love. I get that you don’t recognize them, since it seems no one has ever really given them to you before.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true. You said you loved me before, and you still …”
“I still walked away. I know. But trust me when I say I had to get some things straight in my head. If I’d come in earlier, when I was so messed up, it wouldn’t have gone well for either one of us. I would have hurt you more—”
“You think I give a shit? Pain I can take.” I push myself up to a sitting position, refusing to have this conversation lounging around like an invalid no matter how much my shoulder hurts. “I’m a fucking expert at taking that shit. But you walking away to protect me? That’s not okay. If you’re messed up, you come to me. If you’re hurt, you talk to me. You let me help you—”